


Darkness and Depravity

by AFCBrandon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aunt/Nephew Incest, Chad!Jon Snow, Cunnilingus, Dark Jon Snow, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, F/M, Fluff, Incest, Infidelity, Jealousy, Jonerys Endgame, Loss of Virginity, No Beta, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Rare Pairings, Resurrected Jon Snow, Rickon Lives, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Squirting, apathetic jon snow, bde Jon Snow, by the way dubcon means the line is blurred, jealous Daenerys, s7 au, slight anti Yara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-08-23 12:55:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20243227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFCBrandon/pseuds/AFCBrandon
Summary: Jon Snow knows bedding a taken woman is wrong. He knows how infidelity can affect for generations to come. But many people have done it, so why can't he? He's a King. Besides, Daenerys Targaryen seems to have no shame in flirting with the Greyjoy woman, so why is it wrong for him to seduce her adviser?





	Darkness and Depravity

**Author's Note:**

> This may not be the fic that the discord wanted for blessed week, but Jonssandei is an underrated ship. Don't worry guys, Jonerys endgame :)

There wasn’t much that Jon Snow craved after his resurrection. Prior to his death, Jon longed for a family. He longed for his father, Eddard Stark, to ask his brother in all but name, the King, to legitimize him. Legitimize him so that he could one day hold a keep for Robb, and to marry a woman to give him children to raise. She didn’t have to be a great beauty. She didn’t have to be the daughter of a lord.

All he asked for was a chance. A chance at living freely and as normally as possible.

But it wasn’t to be. Eddard Stark never asked King Robert Baratheon to Legitimize him as Jon Stark, or any other name. Perhaps as a Whitestark or a Black. Hells, Jon would have even taken the last name ‘Arse’ if it meant he would abandon the name “Snow”.

Though, he supposed his status as a bastard wasn’t with complete faults. All that he achieved in the world, was by his merit and his merit alone. Being mutinied upon and murdered wasn’t ideal, but it had freed him from his eternal vows he made at the heart tree, all those years ago. How long had it been? Nearly seven years?

And now, seven years later he sat in a great hall, as a king. The King of the North. How he’d managed to attain that title, especially with what he’d done, was a complete mystery to him. Durling the parlay with Ramsay Bolton, Jon Snow had rained fire upon him, and all the northern traitors, with a volley of arrows.

With all sense of leadership gone, the Bolton army surrendered Winterfell, and offered his brother, Rickon, as a peace offering to allow them to march home. Sansa had later arrived with the Vale army at her back, total surprise, and dare he say disdain, upon her face when she looked upon their youngest brother’s face.

The events that followed, Jon could still not place. The northern lords had denounced his cowardice, yet he was backed by those that took the field with him. He was backed by those with a voice that truly mattered. However, Jon could not foresee the young lady of Bear Island pledging her allegiance to him, to see the rest of the lords kneel and bow before him. He was even more surprised when the Valemen Lords bent their knees as well.

In seven years, Jon Snow had gone from the bastard of Winterfell, to the King of the North and the Vale. He had left his brother, Rickon, to stay and oversee the North for him. He’d be damned if he let Sansa rule in his stead. He had also left Ser Davos to help guide the young lord, whom was the heir and future King to both regions. Perhaps if they managed to free his uncle from the clutches of the Frey whoresons, then perhaps Rickon would inherit three kingdoms rather than two.

Still, some would call him mad to have left his closest, and wisest, advisor in the North after he had been summoned by the dragon queen, Daenerys Targaryen. But...Jon didn’t plan on travelling to Dragonstone with his cock in his hands. So, he had invited Lord Yohn Royce and his friend, Tormund to accompany him to answer the summons of the Targaryen heiress. Tormund had quickly agreed, joining him along with a small company of northerns to head towards the island. The proud Lord of Runestone had taken further convincing but had agreed in the end. The banter between the red headed wildling and the valeman had been something to see and witness with one’s ears.

The decision to answer Daenerys Targaryen’s summons were also not unfounded by logic. Samwell Tarly had written to him about a cache of dragonglass, hidden on the island.

That was what had ultimately led Jon to travel to White Harbor, and utilize a galley provided to him by Lord Manderly. As Jon traveled from Winterfell to White Harbor, he had requested men from each house to accompany him. The bulk of the soldiers were comprised of House Locke and warriors from Ramsgate. Still, a large galley full of Northern warriors was nothing compared to the Dothraki Horde that awaited them on arrival.

That is where he had first seen her. The Queen’s most loyal advisor.

Missandei of Naath.

Jon had stared at her, absorbing her image. Smooth, golden skin that was framed by bush like curly hair, crimped tightly together. Two large, and beautiful, brown eyes that were located by a perfectly narrowed nose; plump dark lips that made him wonder how they would feel locked within his own.

She had politely asked him and his men to relinquish his weapons, a clear power play from her queen. Jon was not keen on relinquishing their form of protection but did not argue due to the lack in numbers. He believed that Lord Tyrion had requested for him to follow, but Jon had firmly stayed behind the advisor. He hadn’t even caught her name during his staring, but Jon was sure that it was beautiful.

And when he was finally led into the great hall of Dragonstone, he saw _her_.

A woman that was just as beautiful, no... that would not be entirely truthful. Perhaps this woman was just a tad more beautiful than her advisor. Not enough to make him forget the Naathian, but enough to make him acknowledge her etherealness.

Daenerys Targaryen.

He had heard of her beauty.

He had not expected them to be so truthful.

Still, he needed to be wary. The tales of her beauty were not unfound, but the tales of her dragons weren’t either. Had Jon all the men in the world, able to fight, he would still bow to the unrivaled power that Daenerys Targaryen currently held. Three fire breathing beasts, ready to tear the world apart for their master. Or was it mother? He knew she was queer in referring to herself as such.

He felt a soft nudge at his side, and Jon was taken out of his reminiscing. A large and white snout pressed against him, his ever faithful partner at his side.

“I believe you’ve had enough to eat, you great white beast.”

Ghost nudged him silently with his nose as he rested upon Jon’s forearm, his red eyes darting to the uneaten sausage on his plate.

Jon grumbled and gestured for the direwolf to take it. Ghost did not hesitate in his lunge.

Jon ran a gloved hand through the albino beast’s fur. He darted his eyes towards the main table, looking at the flirtation going on between the dragon queen and the new Queen of the Iron Islands. Well… Queen claimant.

Jon found it funny, really. Daenerys Targaryen called herself Queen of all seven kingdoms, yet recognized Yara Greyjoy’s reign. A reign that she currently held no claim over. Euron Greyjoy still patrolling the seas with his Iron Fleet. Meanwhile, Yara’s fleet currently blockaded the Blackwater, under the command of Theon.

Jon clenched his fist at the thought of the slimy kraken. Jon knew that the fucker would never be one of them. Never be a Stark. Perhaps saving Sansa gained him favor with his sister, but he still ran his two brothers out of their home and murdered two innocent boys along with Ser Roderick. Jon would throttle the Greyjoy if he ever saw him.

However, Theon wasn’t here. His sister, Yara was. And Jon could only watch as Yara sat upon the table, swinging her legs confidently as she chatted with the dragon queen. Jon watched in amusement as Daenerys smiled coyly towards the Greyjoy woman.

A movement to his left, and Jon quickly averted his gaze. A predatory smirk reached his face as he watched the queen’s loyal advisor leave the great hall and into a corridor that no doubt led to her chambers. Of course, they led to her chambers. Jon had made sure to map out her routes. Whenever the beautiful Naathian had disappeared into the particular corridor at night. She did not emerge until the morning of the next day.

Jon grabbed his goblet of wine to down and stood up to make his way behind her. He needed to be quick, lest he lose her as she disappeared behind a door for the rest of the night.

This was wrong. He knew it was. She was a taken woman, promising herself to a warrior from Daenerys’ ranks. An unsullied soldier. A soldier that was currently marching east, after a failed attempt on Casterly Rock. Jon had been surprised in Tyrion’s lackluster plan to take the seat of House Lannister. In reality, the attempt was successful, but its victory was nothing to note. Cersei did not intend to remove herself from the iron chair in King’s Landing, and Jaime Lannister had emptied the castle larder, using the contents as supplies during his quest to sack Highgarden. Unfortunately, Jaime did not mirror his brother in a failed plan.

Daenerys had been livid when she heard the news, threatening fire and blood upon the Red Keep. Yara had fully supported her planned actions, only Tyrion voicing his reasoning against them. In a surprise moment of judgement, she had turned to him and enquired what she should do. Jon was sure that everyone present had been surprised when he had affirmed her decision to burn and destroy Cersei Lannister in King’s Landing.

Yara had looked at him with some respect, the rest of the people around him only looking in disappointment. Even his own men looked at him with a slight look of fear. All save for two.

Tormund and Missandei.

Even Daenerys received his answer with disappointment. In the end, Tyrion breathed a sigh of relief as Daenerys planned to invade Westeros with her Dothraki horde. The Lannister Army was marching back to the capitol, and Jon made it clear to Daenerys that she should try and intercept any gold that the Lannisters planned to transport. He had heard whispers of the debt that the crown owed.

But that was also why there was currently a feast. Perhaps to amp up the army before they set sail on the morrow. That was why Jon was now chasing a taken woman with a brisk pace to his step. The candle glow began to lessen as he navigated the dark corridor, but he could still make out her form as she paused by a small overlooking balcony at an edge.

Jon slowed his step, and he removed his gloves with as much quiet precision as he could muster.

He was only a few feet away from her, and he could smell the flowery oiled scent that emanated from her hair.

This was wrong. But...he didn’t quite care. Her lover was half a country away, marching slowly back to her while Jon was right here. Many men had seduced and bedded taken women before. Why was it wrong for Jon to do the same? He was a king, wasn’t he? And Jon found himself craving the slim, curvy Naathian woman.

He stepped forward once and pulled her back to him by her waist. She froze in his grip but didn’t scream. No doubt she’d been expecting him. How could she not? When Jon had spent every moment, he could with the woman. Sitting by her during meals. Pestering her to act as a translator between him and the Dothraki that helped him and his men mine the dragonglass.

“I am spoken for, Lord Snow” she whispered in a clipped voice.

Jon snorted at her admonition. As if he could care.

Jon snaked his hand to the front of her breeches and began to slowly undo the laces. Missandei placed a hand upon his own.

“No” she told him.

Jon merely used his other hand to pull her back onto him, her arse pressing against his hardening length. She gasped when maneuvered his head around her curls and latched onto her neck.

She breathed out light breaths as he ran his tongue over her skin, and Jon had finally undone the laces of her breaches and began to slowly move his hand downward.

“No” she said with a firmer voice, grabbing his wrist with much greater force.

But Jon wasn’t in the mood to be told no. He knew she wanted it just as much as him. She could have made any excuse to avoid him. But it had been weeks since her lover had been with her. Nearly a moon. Jon slid his hand into the front of her smallclothes and hissed as he felt the slickness of the cotton that rubbed against his knuckles. The wetness that glided beneath his fingers as his dexterous fingers moved between her folds.

She threw her head back and pressed further against him, her grip on his wrist loosening and she panted as he moved his fingers; her pants turning into moans as the callus of his hands rubbed against her sensitive pearl.

There was no more resistance on her part. Instead, she only moved to help him further. She moved her head slightly, allowing him to bury his head into her neck. Jon pressed wet kisses on her neck, trailing upwards to her jaw.

Jon growled as she writhed and rolled her hips, causing her arse to rub him through the constraints. So, he moved his free hand upward and squeezed a clothed breast. She responded by moving both hands to close over his own. However, she did not make to push his hands away but to squeeze them.

Her moans turned into mewls, and Jon knew that he was becoming stale with his technique. No doubt that she had grown accustomed to the pressure. That’s what gave him the idea to slip a finger into her wet heat. Her mewls turned back into moans.

“Yes…” she moaned, writhing much more furiously against him.

Jon began to trail his kisses further up, reaching from her jawline to the corner of her lips. That was all she needed before she turned her head to him, allowing him to lock her plump lips within his own. All he could think about was how they were as soft as they looked.

Jon prodded her mouth with his tongue, and she was all too eager to let him in. Their clashing was not a close battle but rather a slaughter. He explored her mouth aggressively, running his pink muscle over and under, side to side as he fucked her with his finger. He added a second digit, and she cried into his mouth. She no longer attempted to fight the losing battle within their mouths, instead stilling slightly as she clenched around his fingers. She attempted to break the kiss to cry out into the night, but Jon held her firm, squeezing her breasts as she rode his fingers through her orgasm.

Jon broke the kiss and rested his forehead on her temple. He moved the hand on her chest down to her stomach to hold her in place and moved his honey coated fingers up to his mouth. He attempted to control the groan in his throat as he tasted her juices, but it came out guttural and harsh.

He moved both hands to wrap around her and held her tightly in his embrace.

“Missandei” he whispered, his breath tickling her cheek. “Such a beautiful name.”

Her breathing hitched, before she pushed his hands away. Jon only stared at her in mild surprise as she laced her breeches once more, before moving down the corridor and into her room.

Jon felt a small smirk grace his face when he saw the chambers she held herself in each night.

-

She had come to him the next night. Daenerys had already departed on the back of her black dragon towards the reach and Jon had dined in the great hall without the presence of the dragon queen for the very first time. Yet, Missandei still sat beside the vacant head chair as if her queen were still present.

He hadn’t made his attention to her obvious but would flit his eyes over to her direction as he took a sip from his goblet of wine. The bronze skinned woman had been caught a few times, and quickly averted her gaze each time. Jon smirked as he excused himself for the night. He didn’t glance back at her because he knew her eyes were trained on him as he walked to his chambers.

The moment he arrived, he dismissed the guards and shut the door behind him. Jon then sat at the desk, running his gloved hand over the sleek wood as he hunched over his seat. He placed a hand atop his forehead and sighed as he let the duties of ruling wash over him.

The White Walkers were very much still a threat. He had no inkling as to where they were, but he knew that they would eventually make their assault. Jon could not stop their march, only prepare his people for their impending arrival. Every day, Jon would be in the caves, helping his men mine. Tormund had come along with him while Jon stationed Lord Royce to learn about the people that inhabited the island. The results were pleasing to Jon as the Lord of Runestone slowly dropped his prejudices as he convened with Daenerys’ military strategists.

Jon wondered what sort of advice the man was giving. Surely it had been good. Or perhaps not? Tyrion more often than not seemed incensed at the sight of the Valeman. Daenerys herself seemed to enjoy his presence and tactical prowess. Lord Royce wasn’t a brilliant strategist, but he could smell a folly plan when he saw one.

Jon was roused from his thoughts when he heard a faint knock on the door to his chamber.

“Enter” Jon gruffed out.

The door opened and she had stepped in, looking as delicious as ever in that black leather outfit she wore that clung closely to her body. She shut the door softly and turned to him with a hesitant look.

“Lord Snow” she said softly, a hint of strength attempting to enter her voice but failing.

“Missandei of Naath” Jon returned.

She took a few small strides until she stood in front of his sitting form. Jon sat up as tall as he could in his seat, his back meeting ramrod against the backrest of his chair.

“We…” she started, her voice trailing off as she failed to enunciate the words past.

Jon smirked slightly, moved his hands to grip her waist to pull her closer.

“Lord Snow” Missandei warned, trying to push against his grip.

He easily overpowered her and made her take a step forward and onto his lap, her legs straddling his sides as their leather covered centers made contact with one another.

She bit her lip as he grabbed her rear to press her against him.

“We can’t” she whispered, her breath tickling his beard as she rested her forehead against him. Jon merely stared into her dark pools with his stone-grey ones as he slowly rocked her in his lap. She squeezed her legs against sides and began to place kisses on the tip of his nose when he pressed his lips to her chin.

Jon squeezed her arse and captured her lips as she gasped. He had intended to ravage her mouth with his tongue once more but was surprised when she met him halfway with her own. Their eyes closed as they fought against one another, and Jon smiled slightly at the force she showed against him. He could have easily taken what he wanted but decided to relent to her adorable advancements by allowing her to explore him. Missandei ran her tongue inside his mouth, just as he had done to her the previous night before. She circled her arms around his neck and pressed her chest to him, helping to rock her hips as he squeezed her against him. Jon wondered if she was as wet as she was the night before.

He allowed her to dominate his mouth for a few moments longer until he lightly brought his teeth down to trap her within him. She whimpered when he began to suck on her, running his tongue against her struggling own. He could have stayed like that the entire night, but her hands dropping to his jerking to undo the knots caused him to release her. That, and the need for air.

She rested her forehead against his as she worked at his jerkin, Jon growling as he fumbled with the laces of her own. Who had designed her outfit? To have so many loops to run the laces through. Jon practically ripped the top when he was halfway up, tearing the cross-leather section to expose her skin to him.

Jon pressed on the small of her back to arch her upwards, and she whimpered when he took a nipple into his mouth. Jon teased her with a flick of his tongue, and she panted and gasped when he tugged at her with his teeth.

He wondered if she had been so distracted by his assault on her breasts, that she didn’t notice the ugly scars that adorned his torso. Perhaps she hadn’t gotten the chance to see, but she would eventually. For now, he’d enjoy her moans as he moved his mouth to her other breast. Missandei placed her hands to the back of his head and pushed him into her chest, writhing in his lap. Jon hunched over slightly to begin pressing kisses down her abdomen, following a taut line all the way to her navel.

He pushed herself on him, fully anticipating her freezing in his grip the moment she stared upon the ugly marks that adorned him.

“What…”

“Don’t ask. Not tonight at least” he told her, his voice losing emotion as he pressed their chests together. Whether it was to feel her skin upon him or to hide the marks from her view, he did not know. What he did know was that she was slightly slick from his mouth and warm. She looked to want to protest but welcomed his mouth upon hers with eagerness.

Jon stood up from his seat, gripping onto Missandei with his hands upon her rear as she kept her arms entwined around his neck and her legs wrapped around him. They didn’t break the kiss, even during the short walk to the fur covered bed. Jon laid her gently atop the surface and began to kiss down her exposed body. They hadn’t removed their clothes completely, their tops hanging loosely without its binds, but they did not last as Missandei sat up to remove her jerkin while Jon did the same.

He undid the laces to her breeches with expertise and slid them down her smooth legs, taking her smallclothes along with them. She was now exposed to the air, and Missandei watched him with anticipation as she observed him lick his lips. Greyworm had only done this once for her, the night before he left to take the ancestral home of House Lannister, but it had felt _very _good and Missandei decided that she did not need a cock as long as she could be pleasured by his mouth and fingers.

She didn’t know how much she was truly missing when it came to carnal pleasures. She understood when Jon Snow enclosed her swollen sex into his mouth. She looked up at the ceiling as he ran his tongue up and down her slit. This couldn’t be real, she thought. She didn’t know that it could feel _this good. _

Jon slurped and sucked at her cunt, his fingers teasing her entrance as he circled her opening. He could hear her moans becoming more desperate and louder, her hands clutching for anything at her sides; the bed furs becoming victims under her clutched grasp.

“Oh....” she gasped when he slid a finger inside her, his tongue beginning to swirl around her nub.

However, when Jon arched a finger onto the top of her inside walls, she cried out and moaned, writhing and bucking as he struggled to keep her down. He inserted a second finger and Missandei felt her world spin, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she threw her head back onto the bed.

Her wetness only seemed to increase, and Jon swore she grew tighter around his digits, telling him that she was close. Her legs began to shake uncontrollably, and she cried as soon as she clenched around his fingers, but the surprise came when a small drizzle sprayed onto his face during her climax. Jon let his grip go and allowed Missandei to crawl (or...roll) away from him as her body flushed and convulsed, while he brought a hand up to his cheeks, feeling droplets of her juices.

His eyes darkened with uncontrolled lust as soon as he swiped his tongue out to lick as much as he could. Still, he could not reach the remnants that resided on his cheeks. Jon crawled onto the furs and grabbed her ankle with a tight grip. She looked at him with her dark eyes and yelped when he pulled to him. Jon undid the laces on his breeches and pulled them down and removed them; and he bit back a sigh of relief when his aching length swung in the air. Missandei sucked in a breath when she saw his cock flop wildly, the tip leaking a bit of clear fluid and spreading onto the bulbous tip.

Jon breathed shallow breaths, kneeling upright atop the furs, waiting for her to make the first move. Missandei reached out a hand and tentatively wrapped a smooth hand around his length. Jon hissed at her touch, reveling in the feeling of his velvety skin under her grip. She stroked up and moved down, his skin sliding with her movements as she experimented with her technique. How long had it been? Since he took on a lover? Ygritte? Was that her? He couldn’t really remember. He couldn’t remember much of his previous life prior to his death. All he really knew in the moment was that it must have been such a long time, for her novice movements to arouse him in such a way.

He leaned forward a bit, placed his hands on her shoulder as she began stroking him from the root to his tip, his climax beginning to build as his cock quivered. His breathing turned laborious and he began to grunt quietly.

“Fuck...I’m close, Missandei.”

She immediately let go of him, and he hissed at the lock of contact. Without warning, he moved a hand to the back of her head and grabbed his cock with the other. He didn’t know if he had ever experienced this before, but he’d heard talk of women getting men off with their mouths. He wanted to know what it felt like. So, Jon brought her head towards him, while directing the head of his cock to her lips. He sucked in a breath when he felt her plump lips touch against the slit of him and groaned when she slowly opened her mouth for him. Sliding his cock atop her warm and wet tongue, and feeling it squirm under him. Well...Jon wasn’t ashamed to admit that he released the moment she gave the slightest sucking motion around him.

Spurt after spurt into her mouth, she sucked and swallowed desperately. Jon didn’t know if she was managing to swallow his seed with expertise, he doubted it, but she managed to not spit a single drop of him the moment he finished.

Missandei wrapped a hand on his slightly limped length and looked up at him with her eyes. Jon placed a hand on her chest, just above her breasts and below her neck, right where her collar rested, and gently pushed her onto her back and atop the furs. She fisted the furs tightly and closed her legs slightly when his cock brushed against her.

“Have you ever done this before?”

It wasn’t a completely foolish question to ask. With her unsullied lover? Of course not. But she had been a former slave, and she was beautiful. Jon would not pretend that it wasn’t out of the question. But the way her gaze turned nervous and the squirm of her body told him otherwise.

“My master Kraznys never once took me to his bed. He would only seek pleasure by watching me enact in games with girls. _Only _girls” she whispered.

Jon nodded his head slowly, understanding the reasoning. Still, there was a voice that whispered that Kraznys was a fool. Had Jon been this woman’s master, he would not have let her part from his bed for a single second.

He moved his hands to her inner thighs and gently spread her legs apart. Then, Jon grabbed the base of his cock and positioned himself to her entrance, fighting himself to thrust into her and finally feel her wrapped around him. But he did fight it. He looked up into her eyes instead, watching the waves of emotions across those dark pools of her. He placed his forehead atop her own, and they breathed against one another. He wanted to tell her to trust him. But he couldn’t find the words. He wanted to tell her she’d be okay. But he knew from stories that a woman’s first time was not usually a pleasant one. So, he simply dipped his lips down to hers, and kissed her slowly. When he felt her kiss him in response, Jon slowly moved himself into her.

There was resistance. Of course, there was, and she slightly paused beneath him, but Jon simply kept thrusting until he was fully sheathed inside her. By the time he met the end of her canal, Missandei was whimpering beneath him, tears forming on the edges of her eyes.

“I’m sorry” he told her, the urge to pull himself and ram right back into her beginning to float in his mind.

But he didn’t do any of that. No, he waited for her whimpers to stop. And he pulled himself out. Just a bit, before slowly moving back inside her. She breathed fast breaths as he repeated this motion, all until he began to thrust half his cock inside her. That was when her breathing became faster and slight moans escaped her mouth. He could see her close her eyes, resting her hands against his chest as he quickened his pace.

“Fuck” he grunted, his head dipping down to the crook of her neck. Missandei moved her arms and wrapped them around his neck, caressing the back of his head as he thrusted inside her. “So tight…”

“Your grace…” she moaned, moving her hands wildly around him; not being able to control the waves of pleasure that coursed through her body.

She soon felt the familiar bubbling of heat above her stomach, while Jon understood the quivering and the tightening of his stones. She cried out in pleasure, while he grunted into her neck, both of them finding release and ecstasy inside the dimly lit chambers that currently belonged to the Northern King.

He rolled off of the Naathian woman and sighed as his cock lost its hardness.

Even if the woman laying beside him was spoken for. It was worth it.

-

The nights had become longer after the first night they shared together. Daenerys had flown off atop her dragon to destroy the Lannister army while Jon began to spend less and less time helping his men to mine the glass. He would much rather spend his time rutting inside the queen’s advisor, making her scream and moan in pleasure as he pounded against her.

His favorite night had been the one when she had tried to tell him they would no longer share a coupling with one another. He had asked her if she was sure, and she nodded her head while avoided his gaze. He remembered how he spun her around and slammed her upper body atop the table of his desk, holding her there with a hand while he undid his breeches. When he slid her garments to her knees, she didn’t resist or tell him to stop. Instead, she spread her legs as far as she could as he rubbed himself on her swollen cunt. The little bronze minx. Was she truly planning on breaking things with him when she had practically drenched her smallclothes?

He reveled in her moans as he thrusted mercilessly inside her sopping cunt. His hands gripped her hips as their bodies met with one another. The feeling was good, but Jon felt as if he were missing something. She wasn’t moaning very loudly. Instead, it seemed as if she was simply riding out the pleasure until it was over.

That was why he had pulled himself out and dropped to his knees, grabbing her legs to pull her breeches off. He had only managed to free one leg from the constraints until he gave up. What did it matter in the end? He only need movement. Jon hooked his arm on the back of her knee and pulled it to raise and rest atop the table. That is how he took her then, from behind and hard. He snaked a hand and fisted her mane of hair, pulling against her scalp as his cock was swallowed by her cunt. He felt her grip him tighter when he tugged at her hair, giving him the slight feeling that she enjoyed being dominated.

His thrusts soon became erratic, uncontrollable as he felt his peak beginning to surface. Missandei clenched around his length, and Jon roared; collapsing onto her back as he painted her walls white.

-

“Queen Daenerys is returning on the morrow” Missandei whispered against him.

They were currently under the furs of his bed, Jon looking atop the ceiling with a hand supporting his head, the other wrapped around his lover’s waist. Meanwhile, Missandei rested a hand atop his chest, caressing his scars as she wrapped a leg around his waist.

“Is she?” She was. He had already received the news from the talk around the castle, but he felt the need to make small talk.

“Yes” Missandei responded.

He hummed, circling a finger over the flesh where he held her.

“You know what this means, correct?” she asked him.

Jon turned over to her slightly, looking down into her eyes. He looked down to her slightly parted lips and felt the urge to take them within his own, but he knew she would stop him. She always did when she truly had something on her mind.

“I can’t say that I do” he responded.

She stared at him, slightly narrowing her eyes as if to question if he was truly serious. It seemed that she expected him to know what was on her mind.

“It means that we must end this.”

“End what?” he feigned ignorance.

“_This_” she hissed. “Whatever is going on between us, it must end.”

“Why?”

She huffed and shook her head, rolling away from him.

“You know why, your grace. To my queen’s knowledge, I am loyal to Greyworm. I cannot continue sneaking into your chambers after hours.”

“You don’t really sneak in all the time” Jon pointed out. “Sometimes I pull you in an abandoned room and fuck atop the nearest object. Besides, what does it matter to your queen who you bed?”

“It matters because Greyworm is a close friend of hers. His happiness is important to her as it is to me. Besides” she trailed off, avoiding his gaze, “I would prefer to end things now. I don’t know why I allowed this to deepen, but I still very much care for him. My heart...it belongs to him.”

Jon rolled his eyes as he sat up. He couldn’t believe this.

“Really?” he snorted. “Your heart belongs to him? That’s odd, seeing as you haven’t moaned his name once by accident. It’s always “your grace” or “lord snow”.”

He grabbed her roughly by her waist and rolled her atop him, his cock beginning to harden under her body.

She sucked in a breath as their lips brushed against one another.

“That’s fine…” he told her; his eyes half lidded. “Go ahead and go back to your flame. But, the next time your beloved Greyworm beds you…”

He raised her slightly, aiming her expertly over his cock, and letting her fall upon him with her own weight. She moaned at the feeling of him insider her, bringing her lips down to his.

“Think about this…” he grunted, “the next time...you’re with him…”

“Yes...yes...yes…” she moaned, placing her hands upon his chest to ride him, bouncing atop him as he held her waist.

It was a shame that this had to end. Granted, she was the one ending it. Jon had no problem continuing this. Even if her old lover returned. Still, he’d abuse this meeting for as long as he could. Seeing her bronze skin, slick with sweat, her curls bouncing along with her breasts with each impact, those plump lips as she sucked his cock, and those eyes as he drilled inside her atop the furs…

What a shame.

-

Being held back by Daenerys Targaryen after the first meeting back was definitely not how he foresaw things going.

It started rather tame. Jon bringing the news that his brother and sister were truly alive. It was strange, not feeling anything when he read those words: that Bran was alive. Though, he did feel a certain flicker of emotion at the mention of Arya. She was his favorite...right?

That wasn’t important. What was important was that Davos claimed Bran to have an all knowing power, a power that allowed him to see where the army of the dead currently marched.

Eastwatch.

When he’d brought up the news, Tyrion Lannister had brought up a genius plan to head past the wall and capture a Wight to bring to Cersei. Jon wondered if he’d be eager to think up the plan if he was a volunteer himself rather than staying behind to sip wine into his small belly.

Luckily, Tormund was there to put the idea to rest.

“That’s a stupid fucking plan” he stated simply. Tyrion looked affronted at having his plan swatted aside by the red-haired wildling. “Me and King Crow here fought the bastards at Hardhome. We had an army then, a small one and they slaughtered us like pigs. And you want to send a small group over the wall and abduct one?”

“My lord” Tyrion started

“I’m not a fucking lord, small man.”

Jon simply stared at the quarrel with a bit of boredom, but he heard Lord Royce stifle a slight chuckle. He knew that Tyrion was well respected amongst Queen Daenerys’ contingency, so he doubted any one of them found amusement in Tormund’s rough banter, but he was curious to see Missandei’s reaction.

He knew that she was standing next to her queen, but Jon felt no sort of shame at eyeing up his former lover in front of the entire council. It wasn’t like the queen had any reason to complain, other than him cucking her unsullied commander, seeing as she shamelessly traded coy words with Yara Greyjoy on the regular.

Still, he couldn’t help but find himself intrigued to see the queen’s gaze fixated on him as he moved his eyes to the woman next to her. Missandei avoided his gaze altogether, looking down at the table with a sort of timidness. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost assume she looked a bit hesitant to be standing next to the queen. He moved his eyes to the queen and fought the urge to raise an eyebrow. She looked...crossed as she stared at him.

He moved his attention back to Tormund, but it was Lord Royce that spoke up.

“If the White Walkers currently march to Eastmarch, then we should send a bulk force to man the walls. However, it would not be wise to cross the wall in a folly mission.” He turned to Jon. “Your grace, I believe it to be prudent to order them to seal the gates. So as to not allow them to cross through the only hole.”

Had this topic come up only a few moons ago, he was sure that Lord Royce would have chalked up this topic as mere fantasy. However, the man had turned a tune when he saw the aged chalking in the caves where they mined the dragonglass. Lord Royce had kept an open mind during the while, and if he hadn’t. Then Jon wouldn’t have been averse to show the man the scars that littered his torso.

“Very well, I’ll send the raven to Lord Commander Edd to give the order” he assured the man.

“Not planning to be a hero then, Lord Snow?”

Everyone turned their heads to the source. Every head was now fixated on Queen Daenerys.

“I don’t believe I am aware to what you mean, your grace” he responded.

She simply clasped her hands in front of her, her nostrils flaring as she looked at him with contempt. She definitely wasn’t a supporter of his at the moment. Daenerys didn’t elaborate on what she meant, instead shifting the topic.

“So, Lord Snow. If you don’t plan to retrieve a Wight for Cersei, then how do you plan to stop the fighting from happening and to convince us both to focus our armies north?”

Jon was sure he would surprise a lot of people.

“I don’t.”

Silence.

“Pardon me, my lord?” Daenerys asked.

“I said I don’t plan on convincing either of you to stop your war and to come north.”

“Then you plan on taking the dragonglass I’ve gifted you and leaving after giving nothing in return?”

“It was to my knowledge that you had no idea the dragonglass even resided on your island, your grace. And like you said, you gifted the glass to me. I was under the impression that a gift was not an object used to barter.”

A lie. He knew very well how “gifts” worked in the game of Westeros. Daenerys sucked in a breath and snarled at him.

“You insolent, arrogant-”

“However,” he cut her off, “I do not plan to not honor my aid. You gifted me the glass. Perhaps you feel you deserve something in return. I do not. I make this decision on my own volition instead. I shall march my army south and support you in the impending war with Cersei.”

Tyrion took the time to cut in.

“We do not plan to war with my sister” he said but Jon turned to him with a sharp gaze.

“Your sister destroyed my family. She held my father hostage before promising safe passage to the wall and breaking her promise.”

“It was Joffrey-”

“Who was controlled by your sister, Lord Tyrion. Who has also blown up a sept and half the city with wildfire, all to save her life and to make sure she remains on the throne. She’d been beaten by fair rules and came out on top by breaking them.”

Jon leaned over the table, mocking the Lord Hand from across the table by lowering himself to meet his gaze. Not fully eye level, but much lower than if Jon stood at full height.

“You’re a fool if you think Cersei will postpone her war just by seeing a dead man. It wouldn’t surprise me if your sister spread her legs and whores herself to the Night King, all to ensure an alliance against me.”

“The people-” Tyrion started.

“Fuck the people” Jon growled. “Where did the people stand when my father brought your sister’s crimes to light? Where did they stand when they butchered my brother under a banner of peace? A wedding. His babe murdered before it even drew breath.” Jon lowered his voice to an even deeper burr. “Don’t mistake me for a paragon, my lord. If your Queen planned to sack the city with Fire and Blood, then I’d gladly provide the bloodshed she required. Me and all my men would march to the gates of King’s Landing and knock down those doors. Just to root that lion bitch from her throne.”

The entire council looked at him in stunned silence, even Tormund not expecting this sort of viciousness from him.

He raised himself to his full height and turned to the Targaryen Queen.

“I’ll support you in whatever plan you have to remove Cersei from the Throne. Then, perhaps you’ll remember I chose to help and decide to come and aid me with the threat only my people seem to face.”

She looked at him with hesitant, violet eyes, before nodding her head. Jon chose that moment to move his eyes over to her Naathian advisor.

Which was a mistake.

Daenerys seemed to hackle and steeled her voice.

“I do not think I will need your men, my lord. I have the Unsullied, my Dothraki, the Iron Fleet and three large dragons. I believe myself to be fine.”

He looked at her with his steel grey eyes, wondering if she was insane. She had asked him to support her in the war against Cersei for a long time. At first, by bending the knee. Then, to at least send men to her cause. Now, he was offering the latter and she seemed to not want it. She was a strange individual at the moment.

“Very well” he shrugged.

That set her off even more.

“Out. Everyone. Out. This council is dismissed.”

Missandei was the first to move, followed by the spider and Lord Royce. Tyrion and Tormund stayed for a bit, until the former decided to leave with hesitance. Tormund waited for Jon to turn, and they both made their way to leave the door. Jon planned to spend time with his faithful companion. No doubt Ghost was bored out of his mind with exploring the island.

“Not you, Lord Snow.”

He paused in his step, and Tormund looked at him, then at Daenerys before looking back to Jon. Jon gave him a short nod, gesturing that he’d be fine.

When he turned, he noticed that Yara Greyjoy remained in the room.

“Yara,” Daenerys announced with a curt tone “I only asked Lord Snow to stay behind.”

“Your grace” Yara tried, but a glance from Daenerys silenced her.

Yara pursed her lips but nodded, turning in her step to walk towards the doorway and make her exit. She gave him a cold look before trying to walk through him. Try was the key word here. Jon could see that she wasn’t inclined to walk around him and braced himself by the oncoming bump of her shoulder. She simply bounced off a bit, Jon only giving her a lazed look.

“You may walk like a man, but you don’t have the strength of one. Don’t try that again, Greyjoy. I doubt you can take a strike like one either.”

Perhaps it was unfair to treat her so. The bulk of his ire was aimed at her traitorous brother, but the little Kraken wasn’t here so it was up to his sister to take the brunt of his words.

She spit at his boots and walked out of the room, leaving him alone with the woman that requested, no… ordered him to stay.

He turned to the woman across from him, the painted table the only barrier between them. He could see her staring at him with pure loathing in her gaze. However, it only seemed to add to her appeal, her heart shaped face and soft looking lips only being augmented by the intense gaze she gave him.

“Is there a reason you have to be cross with me, your grace?”

He was playing a fool’s game. He had just the inkling as to what was the source of her ire. He hadn’t been sure at first, but when she exploded during his glance to the woman beside her, he knew. Plus, the fact that she had the Spider on her council told him that she more than likely already knew.

“Have you no shame, Lord Snow?”

“I suppose it depends on what I’m in need of being ashamed of.”

She walked around the table, with a slow poise. Her red, scaled cape flowing gently with each step. Her boots make a soft thud on the floor as she stalked towards him. Jon wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t stir a certain heat within him.

“While in Astapor, during my journey to where I now stand, I freed my first city of slaves and added two people that are valuable to me in council and towards my feelings. They are two of my greatest friends and I would wish to see their happiness.”

Jon gave her an amused look.

“Her grace’s friends are lucky to have such a powerful friend in the queen.”

It was a teasing mocking of the way the slaves spoke in Essos. Missandei had informed him of it after one of their shared nights together. Daenerys did not find it amusing.

“She walked the remaining steps and stopped in front of him, her hands turning white with how tightly she grasped them. Hey may have not been overtly tall like most of the men of Westeros, but he still towered over the petite woman in front of him when she stood at her full frame. He looked down at her with cool grey eyes as she looked at him with burning violet ones.

“Those two friends happened to have fallen in love with one another, Lord Snow. For years, they gazed at each other without making a move until recently. Hesitance separated them but the thought of never being with one another brought them together” she informed him. “And you were cruel enough to put yourself between them and seduce a taken woman.”

He gave her a small smile.

“Aye, I did. Because I wanted to.”

“Why?” she whispered, losing a bit of fire from before. “All I heard before you arrived to this island was how honorable you were. Lord Tyrion assured me you were your father’s son.”

Images of sharp knives in the dark cold flashed in his mind.

“Honor hardly gets you what you want, your grace. I saw your advisor and deemed that I could take her.”

“So, you did force her” she whispered. “You took her against her will”

A look of rage crossed her face.

“When Varys came to me, I didn’t want to believe it. I asked Missandei but she avoided my gaze. Now I know why. I should have your head for what you’ve done.”

Jon only gave her an amused look.

“Forced her? Is that what your spymaster said? Did I force her during our first night together?”

_Yes, a bit._

“Did I force her when she opened her neck to my kisses? When she came to my room so that I could take her with my mouth? Did Varys tell you how she begged me to make her reach her peak? How she showered my face with her juices when I pushed her exactly where she wanted me to push her?”

Daenerys’ chest hitched as a blush rose to her cheeks, rage and...envy?... in her eyes.

“Do you know that she likes to embrace her lover after she’s been properly fucked? I’ve never seen her ride a horse before, but I have no doubt she’s an excellent rider. Do you know she enjoys when I take her from behind-”

He turned sharply to his right, his cheek stinging as he registered what had transpired.

She had struck him.

Jon turned to her with a deadly and predatory gaze. A sinister smile appearing on his lips.

“I’m glad you did not strike my left side, your grace. I hear it’s my best brooding side.”

Another smack.

“Usually, I’m the one doing this. And usually on your advisor’s arse-”

Another.

“Alright” he growled. “That’s getting annoying.”

She swung her hand once more, but Jon grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him.

“If you’re going to strike me, then you should know it only to be fair if I do the same.”

A look of fear happened upon her face, and Jon let out a dark chuckle.

“Worry not, your grace. I don’t strike women unless they fancy it.”

He let go of her wrist, but she did not pull away from him. No, she stood close to him, looking up at him with those violet eyes of hers. Her lips were slightly parted as he breathed against her, and Jon found he could not contain himself from knowing what she tasted like.

He dipped his head and captured her lips, kissing her with an intensity as she matched him. She fisted the leather of his jerkin with her dainty hand and moaned into his mouth. Jon placed a hand on the small of her back and pulled her to him. Somewhere during their kiss, Jon had hoisted her atop the table. The moment her arse made contact with the painted wood beneath her, she pushed him off.

“How dare you” she snarled. “You’ve bedded my closest friend and now believe you can take me for your own?”

Jon simply grabbed her legs and spread them apart, positioning himself between her and placing his arms on the table, pushing her slightly back with his chest.

“Your advisor already ended things with me” he informed her. “Now, normally I would’ve left you alone since you seem to be so taken with that pirate with a family name from the Iron Islands. My logic was that your friend’s lover wasn’t here while I was. So, she was fair prey in my eyes. However, seeing as I’ve already hunted in the forbidden hunting grounds. Why leave?”

He slid a hand over her thigh before moving it to between her legs, cupping her mound that was covered by her leather trousers.

She sucked in a breath.

“I-I’m not taken with Yara Greyjoy…” she said, writhing slightly as he moved his hand over her.

“Really? Well…” he said, squeezing her as he got near her lips. “You had me fooled. If I had known your flirtations were just friendly, then I would have targeted you instead. Still, I’m glad I read it wrong. Wouldn’t have known what your advisor was truly like when you make her undone.”

He didn’t allow her a chance to respond, instead crashing his lips upon her once more. He didn’t allow for her to push him off, instead he reached his hands to her leather jacket and began undoing the bindings, practically ripping her upper outfit as he exposed her breasts to him.

She breathed against his lips, her forehead resting upon his as he gripped her waist with his hands. He moved his head down and took a breast within his mouth, earning a soft mewl as he sucked on a hardened peak. He played with her other breast with a soft touch, and she moaned when he tugged her nipple between his teeth. So far, she wasn’t a screamer. Not like Missandei was.

He repeated the motion with her other breasts before trailing kisses down her body. She wasn’t slim like her advisor, but her body was perfect to him. It wasn’t too skinny, and it wasn’t fat. It was the right thickness for him to hold and adore. He unlaced her trousers and pulled them down her pale legs, her skin shining like porcelain as he pulled her boots off, leaving her bare when she shrugged off the unlaced jacket.

Jon dropped to his knees, and inwardly laughed at the ironic implication. She had demanded he bend the knee and now he was doing so, for the reasons she hadn’t initially intended for him. He spread her legs and he growled at the sight of her swollen cunt. It was truly a marvelous thing to look at. Swollen pink lips, framed by a slight tuft of silver hair above. Jon leaned forward and buried his nose in her thatch, inhaling her scent as his mouth pressed against her slit.

She threw her head back and spread her legs further allowing him to slide down and lick her, tasting her honeyed juices with his tongue. Her breathing turned into moans as he slid his tongue between her folds, tasting and feeling all the skin he could; all while avoiding the hooded pearl above.

She placed her hands on his hand and raked her fingers through the tightly bound hair, grasping at anything when he finally touched her sensitive nub. However, she cried out when his tongue began to assault her clit, a single digit sliding into her without warning.

She squirmed and bucked on the table, her legs shaking when he curled his finger, looking for a slightly rougher skin. When he found it, Jon slid a second digit inside the queen, and she screamed in pleasure as he assaulted her sensitive spots.

She fell back onto the table and her hands came up to squeeze her own breasts as her legs began to shake. She clenched and Jon felt a drizzle of juices hit his face; no reaction being elicited other than glee. He had become accustomed to the feeling with plentiful practice over the past days that Daenerys was away.

Her body had flushed as her legs quivered slightly. Jon took the opportunity to undo his breeches, sliding them down to his knees. He undid his leather jerkin, mentally preparing himself for the questions that would leave her mouth.

Sure enough, the lust had left her violet eyes when he exposed his chest to her. She sat up quickly.

“What in-”

“Mutiny” he told her. “At the wall. Only reason I’m here and not freezing my balls off.”

“How...how did you survive?” she questioned.

He gave her a slight smile, grabbing his cock and positioning it at her entrance.

“You’re not the only one with magic in her blood, your grace.”

She looked at him before giving a slight nod. He dipped his head and she met his lips with her own, moaning as she tasted herself on his tongue. He slid into her tight and wet heat, groaning as he felt her swallow him whole.

“Fuck…” he whispered.

This couldn’t be real. There was no reason a woman should feel this good. Jon panted as he paused in his movements, allowing her to adjust to his length (and himself to her tightness).

After a few moments passed, Jon pulled himself slightly out before thrusting back in. Daenerys moaned and wrapped her legs around him, snaking one arm across his shoulder and on his back while she caressed his face with her free hand. They rested their foreheads atop one another, not being able to say anything as they reveled in the feeling of one another.

It was pure bliss. That was as best as he could describe it. Her cunt seemed to have been made specifically for him as it squelched with each of Jon’s thrusts.

Their mouths opened against one another, but no words left as he pulled himself out to the tip and rammed back inside to the hilt. He grunted to her moans, and he soon felt his climax beginning to reach inside him as his stones began to tighten. His cock quivered, but it was when she cried out as she clenched around him that he began to spurt and paint her insides white. He roared with each spurt, claiming her lips so as to now disturb the silence of the entire castle. However, he was sure that everyone had already heard them.

He collapsed with the last wave of seed he shot inside her, and they laid in each other’s arms silently for the rest of the night.

When they had dressed themselves, he accompanied her to her chambers.

And never returned to his own.

-

The following moons had been filled with nothing but constant fucking. Even as Jon’s men chipped at the dragonglass to ship north, and the northern armies marched south to King’s Landing, Jon found himself fucking Daenerys against a wall, a desk or atop a bed of an abandoned room with every chance he received.

When the armies had finally been set, the combined forces had managed to scare the army into turning against Cersei Lannister and opening the gates in a surrender. Of course, the Mad Queen would not take defeat so easily, instead igniting the remaining caches of wildfire and obliterating most of Daenerys’ Dothraki and Unsullied. Greyworm was not amongst the casualties.

Daenerys flew to the Red Keep and burned the castle with Cersei still inside. If the woman wasn’t roasted, then the rubble had certainly killed her. Tyrion resigned as hand, but no one paid an inkling of attention to the man’s grievances. The civilians had been damaged by Cersei’s last move and needed to be helped. Despite not feeling any hint of sympathy, Jon supplied men to help in the restoration of King’s Landing and the relief of the people.

After a moon inside the capitol, a moon of fucking the queen in a tent, he was ready to march home.

Missandei had reunited with her flame and Jon was slightly unsure if the man knew what had transpired. Considering the looks of loathing, he assumed that Missandei had been honest. Being the Queen's lover was possibly the only thing keeping the unsullied captain alive. For if Jon had not taken to sharing Daenerys’ bed, then the captain would have grown brass and tried to duel him. It would not have ended well for the command of Daenerys’ army.

Still, he was going home but not empty handed. Sansa had thought him a fool when he marched South to Dragonstone, but who was the fool now? Now Jon travelled to Winterfell with a cache of materials to defeat the Walkers, and the aid of a large army and three grown dragons. All while keeping the crown on his head.

Still, Jon’s nights grew longer even after Daenerys fell asleep in his arms. He may have been marching north with the greatest army Westeros had ever seen.

But he still didn’t know if he could defeat the army of the dead.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Jon Snow is very fucked in his morals. But that's what I like. I like a dark protagonist.


End file.
